I followed You willingly into the boat. Didn’t think much of it when You fell asleep. You’d been working hard, after all. If I’d known that storm was coming, well, I would have talked all of us into staying safely on land. After all, I’m a fisherman. I know storms.
One would have thought that howling gale was a spring breeze, the way You slept. I’ll admit, when I saw You back there dozing so peacefully while the rest of us frantically bailed water and struggled to keep from capsizing, I felt indignant. How could You be so restful? Why weren’t You doing something?
The storm raged on, and You slept on, and we thought we were going to die. Finally, we woke You. “Save us! We’re dying!” we cried, and You looked around in amazement. Like You couldn’t believe we were fearful. Like it never even crossed Your mind to be scared.
“Why are you afraid? Have you really so little faith?” We gaped at You uncomprehending as the wind thrashed us.
You stood then and spoke right to the winds and the sea, commanding them to still. And they did, just like that. And You smiled at us and held up Your hands, like, “See?”
We were astonished, of course, to see how the storm obeyed You. But I was even more astonished at Your faith. Looking back now, I think Your trust in Your Father was so secure that You would not have even thought to calm the storm if we had not cried out to You. Maybe that raging sea would never have concerned You as You rested in Your Father’s care for You, knowing He would see You through it.
I am grateful, though, that even as You saw the weakness of our faith, You rose to help us. You showed us how the God who could silence the sea at one word from You would also carry us safely through many a storm to come.
I think of You, sleeping so peacefully in the middle of such a tempest, and this is what I long for. A faith that goes beyond wanting the storm to cease. A faith that rests fully in the care of the Father to take me through the storm—a faith so full that I can sleep even as the winds howl around me.